


Hello, it's me

by Hyeyu



Series: My hand in yours [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Airports, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyeyu/pseuds/Hyeyu
Summary: The phone in Iwaizumi’s hand had barely vibrated before he thumbed the green ‘answer’ circle and lifted it to his ear. “Yo.”“Hajime.” Oikawa’s voice was high and slightly shrill, even through the staticky reception. “Hajime, the flight’s been delayed anotherfucking two hours-”Oikawa's flight back to Tokyo is delayed. Iwaizumi calms him down over a phone call.





	

**Author's Note:**

> More Iwaoi established husbands!AU, a little earlier in the relationship compared to 'Lean on me'. 
> 
> Originally posted to Tumblr [here](http://hweiro.tumblr.com/post/154030215074/hello-its-me-haikyuu-iwaizumioikawa-rg).

 

The phone in Iwaizumi’s hand had barely vibrated before he thumbed the green ‘answer’ circle and lifted it to his ear. “Yo.”

“Hajime.” Oikawa’s voice was high and slightly shrill, even through the staticky reception. “Hajime, the flight’s been delayed another _fucking two hours-_ ”

“I know.” The arrivals board had been updated and the airport announcement made just a few minutes before Oikawa’s call. It was the third delay announced for that particular flight that day, and while Iwaizumi was as irritated as Oikawa likely was, swearing up a storm in a public place wasn’t going to help either of them. “Something about the weather, wasn’t it? It sucks, but it can’t be helped.”

“Can’t be helped, my ass; there’s nothing wrong with the goddamned weather, the sun’s out for god’s sake, I don’t know what they’re fucking thinking, if they are thinking _at all_ -”

“Hey. Hey. Tooru.” Iwaizumi gentled his voice, pitching it as low and soothing as he could over the line. “Tooru, sweetheart.”

That worked - Oikawa paused mid-tirade, the sound cutting off so abruptly Iwaizumi was tempted to check if the reception had given out after all. A deep, shaky exhale and Iwaizumi smiled at the mental image of Oikawa hastily regrouping his wits. 

When Oikawa eventually answered, his voice was a poor imitation of the purr he so often used when teasing Iwaizumi. “Why, Hajime, getting bold in public now, are we?”

Iwaizumi shrugged before he remembered such motions don’t usually translate over phone calls well. “This area of the airport is pretty empty anyway.”

“You’re at the airport already?” The sultry tone slipped from Oikawa’s voice, guilt leaking into its place. “Oh, Hajime, how long - I’m so, so sorry-”

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s not your fault. The chairs in the waiting lounge aren’t that bad anyway.”

“Don’t lie - those chairs are a menace and aren’t comfortable at all.”

“Unlike you, my standards of comfort are actually pretty reasonable. All I really need is for the chairs to be cushioned, and what do you know, they are. Plus, there are options for coffee aside from McDonald’s all around, so I’d say I’m good.”

Oikawa didn’t answer immediately, but Iwaizumi could almost see him worrying at his lower lip, fingers clutched tight around his cellphone. “I should have left with the rest of the team yesterday, damn it.”

“You need to stop blaming yourself for something we’ve both established as _not actually your fault_.” During times like this, Iwaizumi wished he could just reach through the phone and pull his husband into a reassuring hug. “We both already knew you had that sports magazine interview scheduled after the game weeks ago, remember? And ANA is generally reliable - if they’re delaying it this often, there must be something up. Honestly, I’d feel better if you came back late but safe, than risk being in some sort of air accident.”

“Why are you always so reasonable, Hajime?” But the stress had bled out of Oikawa’s voice, and Iwaizumi allowed himself to sink back in the metal lounge chair he was seated in. 

“Someone has to be in this relationship,” he fired back easily, stretching out his legs. “And I’m not implying anything, but word is that my husband is quite high-strung…”

“I’ll show you 'high-strung’ when I get back, you asshole.”

“Mmm, you do that. In the meantime, I’ll just enjoy this amazingly delicious milk bread I so happen to have with me.”

“Milk-bre- you bought me milk bread? Oh my god, Hajime, you wouldn’t-!”

Iwaizumi rustled the paper bag by his thigh extra-loudly, biting back a grin at Oikawa’s aggrieved wail. 

“Nooooo, you’re not allowed to eat my milk bread!”

“Even after how long I’ve waited for you?” It was a bit of a gamble, bringing up the topic all over again, but Iwaizumi had to check that Oikawa’s mood had bounced back completely if just for his own sake.

“…okay, maybe half. But only half!”

“Not even three-quarters, huh?”

“Don’t you dare, Iwaizumi Hajime. I will _end_ you.”

Laughing, Iwaizumi scrubbed a hand across his face. “Ah, I love you so much, Tooru.”

A sudden burst of sound slammed into his ear, followed by a flurry of distant swear words and small scrabbling noises. Oikawa’s voice, when it came back on, was flustered. “Er, sorry about that-”

“Did you drop your phone?” Iwaizumi asked, incredulous.

“Um, I - maybe? But Hajime, you can’t just _drop_ random love declarations like that, oh god-”

“Er, pretty sure the ring on my left hand says I can?”

“Hajime, I-” Iwaizumi had seen it enough times to be able to picture it clearly within his mind - Oikawa, eyes wide, shoulders hunched inwards as if shielding himself, but not enough to hide the flush travelling up from the collar of his jacket to tint his cheeks a violent shade of pink. “I wasn’t _prepared_ for- I was - how do I - Hajime, I love you so, so much too, you have no idea.”

With that undignified confession, the need to have Oikawa right there with him right now, diligently muted over the past week, came roaring back in full force to the front of Iwaizumi’s mind. China was about three and a half hours away from Japan, even without the delays, and he suddenly missed his husband with a fierce, longing ache. _I miss you,_ he thought. _I want you back now._

“My battery’s running out, I think,” he said instead. “And you should probably grab a quick nap if you can. Remember to put an alarm if you do though.”

“Mmmm, 'kay.” Oikawa went silent for a while. “Hajime, if you want to go back first, it’s fine. I can meet you at home later.”

“Nah, I’ll wait. I’ll probably buy one of those cheap novels, read a little. Maybe grab some dinner too.”

“It’s at least another five hours; I can’t possibly-”

“Tooru,” Hajime said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’ll wait. When you come out of the arrival hall, look around. I will be here. I promise.”

The line went quiet again.

“Hey, no crying now - remember what we agreed on you being a hideous crier?”

“I’m not crying,” Oikawa replied immediately, voice thick with suppressed sniffles. He had always been an open book as far as Hajime was concerned, and Hajime allowed a fond sigh to trickle through the line.

“Okay, okay. I’m going to hang up now. But, remember one thing for me, sweetheart: I love you.”

“I love you too,” Oikawa whispered back before the call dropped into the high-pitched buzz of a disconnected call.

Hours later, Iwaizumi was stiff and tired (and damn it, Oikawa was right: the chairs in the waiting lounge were shit), but he was standing right at the end of the arrival corridor when a tall brunette decked in a sports jacket and loose jeans came hurrying out amongst the other flight passengers, tugging his small carry-on behind him. Oikawa spotted him almost immediately and bee-lined in his direction, stopping only to stare at the bouquet of roses Iwaizumi held in front of him. 

The flowers were wilted around the edges, but still vivid and beautiful in the stark lighting of the arrivals lounge. Still, they were nowhere as vibrant as the smile that lit up Oikawa’s face as he took them from Iwaizumi, placing them carefully on the edge of his bag before he pressed himself into his husband’s opened arms. Oikawa was rumpled, he was warm, he was _there_.

“Happy 1st anniversary, Tooru,” Iwaizumi mumbled into Oikawa’s ear, kissing it lightly.

“Happy 1st anniversary, Hajime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ٩(•̤̀ᵕ•̤́๑)૭✧ Feedback and constructive criticism is always appreciated. I also accept chocolate chip cookies.


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